


The Color of My True Love's Hair

by schemingreader



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-02
Updated: 2010-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schemingreader/pseuds/schemingreader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was indeed "the power the Dark Lord knew not," animating Snape's rigid face, his stiff limbs, to this flowing grace. She knew Snape had desired her but he'd never danced this dance for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Color of My True Love's Hair

## The Color of My True Love's Hair

**Dignified**

He bent over her, hands clutched at his sides to keep himself from touching her, and leaned forward into her upturned, ecstatic face. She pulled his collar, bringing his lips to hers, nearly too hard. He held back, afraid that his teeth would smash against her mouth, but she opened to him like a flower, her tongue wet. His eyes were open and he could see the whiteness of her breasts. His cock responded, even as he said to himself, "She's manipulating me. She must be." How mechanically he kissed, yearning to run his hands through that impeccable hair. "Narcissa."

* * *

  
He pulled back. "Severus," she said, her eyelids lowered to create blue slits in her glowing face. "So you aren't queer."

"You presume too much," he said. Her hand hovered over his erection, about to touch him through the front of his robes.

"I think not," she said.

"I'm not--emotionally available."

"I'm married. I don't need you that way..." Her palm was warm where she finally allowed it to rest against him, even through his clothing. "I need this."

"And you want me to give it...to you."

"Hard, Severus. Say you'll give it to me, hard."

He shook his head.

* * *

"No you won't do it, or no you won't say it?"

He bent his head to her again, and kissed. She picked up his hand and put it inside her dress, on her bare breast. Her nipple bloomed against his palm. She turned.  
"If you are queer, you can give it to me from behind," she said, rubbing her buttocks against him. He ran his hands over her breasts. "Or you can lie down and let me ride you." He began to work the silky dress up her thighs and over her arse. She wasn't wearing underwear.

"Witch," he said.

* * *

Her white throat, white breasts, the white globes of her arse, the white flower on her black dress, her white teeth, she was clean and hard against him. Except her arse was soft, and he pulled it open with his two hands. "Yes, fuck me," she said, "yes," but as he worked his finger into her little hole she gasped. He had a finger in her arse and two in her quim, working her clit back and forth and rubbing against her bare thigh. "Oh," she said, "oh," and he felt her sphincter muscles grip his fingers when she came.

* * *

He was humping against her leg and his cock was raw from the inside of his pants, but he came just the same. She leaned back against him, bare arse, bare hard leg against which he'd rutted, and kissed him again. It took a moment before he could work his fingers out of her. He bowed, his hair falling in his face, not sure what to say. She looked more dignified than he did, even half naked, even with his come a damp ghost on her leg. "Another time, perhaps," he said, looking at the floor. "Perhaps," she said coolly.

 

 

**Another Man**

The mornings after we fuck my hair always looks better. I know you think this is because of your superior shampoo, but look at your hair. No, it's because when I'm with you I'm a different man. I'm Harry Potter's sophisticated lover with the big cock, I'm sarcastic, witty double-agent Snape, I'm the man you saw fly out a window without a broom. I'm the man whose prick you worship and whose eyelids you kiss. Everything is taller, cleaner, better about this other Snape who made you come twice, screaming.

The mornings after we fight, my hair looks like shit.

* * *

"He's like a different person," Lucius said.

"I suspect he _is_ a different person," Narcissa replied. "Didn't Potter think he was dead, before? Our Snape was heterosexual, laconic, melancholy."

"How do you know he was heterosexual? I never saw him with a woman."

"Women know," Narcissa said. "At least, witches do."

"Perhaps he's relieved, now they're both dead," Lucius suggested.

"Right, and now he's suddenly a charming gay man with a young lover who happens to be the most powerful wizard in the country."

"He saved Draco. I'm happy for him."

"You're happy for someone," she said. "Whoever he is."

* * *

He still doesn't like answering questions. Most of the things I knew about him, before, I learned by reading his notes in his textbook.

Twice, recently, he's left out his pensieve for me to find.

The first time, he was angry with me when I looked, and the second, he was angry with me when I didn't. "It was a hint, Potter."

"A hint? That I should invade your privacy?"

"You have no subtlety."

"The old you told me that."

He snorted. "The old me? I don't have amnesia, you fool."

But he's not the same, and I'm not sorry.

* * *

  
**Black Leather Sofa**

"You can't trust her," Severus said.

"She saved me in the last battle with Voldemort."

"She's a Black. They're not what they seem."

Harry snorted. "Look who's talking. Anyway, it's just dinner. Why don't you come with me?"

"She manipulated me into killing the Headmaster."

"She thought you knew what the task was."

"She knew that I didn't know, I just didn't know that she knew."

Harry laughed.

"She's a Black, all right?"

"So you'd better come with me."

"I don't want to go back to that house..."

Harry shuddered. "They tortured my friend there. I wouldn't go back either."

* * *

Severus looked down. "So where are you meeting her?"

"What's wrong? Why won't you come with me?"

"It could be somewhat...awkward." His hair still fell in a black curtain around his face, as it had when he was Harry's age.

Harry pushed a lock behind Severus' ear and Severus shuddered. His ears were too sensitive.

"You saved Draco as much as I did," Harry said, "they'll have to forgive your deception."

"Wrong," Severus said. "They'll forgive the deception easily, it's the help they resent."

"I don't want to be alone with her," Harry admitted. "I think she's trying to seduce me."

* * *

Severus snorted.

"Am I imagining things?" Harry said. His color was high, as it always was when he was embarrassed, and he combed his wild black hair back with his fingers.

"No," Severus said. " _You're_ at least good looking."

"What do you mean, _I'm_ good looking?" Harry's mouth dropped open. "Did she try anything with you?"

"Before your time," Severus said, but Harry still looked black.

"You're mine, you know," he muttered.

"Oh, don't be so--"

"I mean it," Harry said. "You belong to me and I belong to you, and don't tell me--"

"You're too emotional," Severus said.

* * *

"What do you mean, I'm emotional?" Harry said. "You're cry--" but Severus put a finger on his lips.

"I'll go with you," Severus said, mastering the lump in his throat.

Harry got right up close to him, so that the black spikes of his hair tickled Severus' lip. "You're good looking," he said. "You look good to me, anyway, and I don't want anyone else to look, so," he kissed Severus on the mouth.

After a minute, Severus said, "Well, you do have her house, you know. Grimmauld Place might have gone to her. She's a Black."

"Maybe it's just that."

* * *

Harry kept kissing him. "I don't like it when we fight," he said in an undertone.

"We weren't," Severus began, but Harry kept distracting him.

"I meant, the other night," Harry finally said. "I lost my temper."

"Really," Severus murmured. It was difficult to be angry with Harry's cheek pressed against his--all of Harry pressed against his front. One foot on the floor was all that was keeping the two of them from tumbling off the black leather sofa. "Harry," he said.

"Don't worry about Narcissa Malfoy," Harry said. "We can handle her." Right then, Severus could handle anything.

* * *

  
**The Scrying Bowl**

Black and white, that was all she saw at first. Peering into the scrying bowl, she thought she'd done the spell incorrectly. Then she saw the blush of Harry Potter's cheek, the green of his eye, the pink of his nipple, and began to distinguish Snape's slightly yellower skin tone. The black was their hair, and the chiaroscuro in the shadow of the candle.

It was indeed "the power the Dark Lord knew not," animating Snape's rigid face, his stiff limbs, to this flowing grace. She knew Snape had desired her but he'd never danced this dance for her.

* * *

It was a slow, methodical fuck. Narcissa had never considered the logistics of fitting men's bodies together, but it made sense for them both to kneel. It made sense to her that Severus would want those buttocks pressed against him, the roundness of them. It made her want to grow a cock and feel them squeezing her. Harry Potter's body was round and young, his cock thrust out proud and pink between his thighs as he rode Severus. His face and chest were flushed, his heart generous with his blood everywhere, and his eyes, when he opened them, sparkled green.

* * *

It was Severus Snape who surprised her. She had never seen him look like this at anyone. It wasn't even desire--she'd seen him look at women with desire. She'd seen him look at Lily Evans with wistful love, at the Dark Lord with grim blankness, at Draco with care and concern no one but Narcissa could see. But this was something else, a relaxation, a softness that was foreign to that hawk nose, those black brows. It was in the bend of his head as he kissed Harry Potter's beatific face, his passionate, open lips, his reverently closed eyes.

* * *

They surged against each other; Potter first posting on Snape's cock, and then, leaning forward, letting Snape drive into him. The movement was sinuous, each moving and meeting the other's motion. She sighed.  
"What are you doing?" Lucius was behind her.  
She trailed two fingers casually through the bowl, disturbing the images, breaking the spell. "Black magic."

His smile was wry. "Yes." He touched her cheek. "You're very flushed," he said, his hand straying down her neck to her breast.

"Very," she said, grinding her buttocks against his erection.

"Want to cool off?" He was kissing her neck.

"Not really."

* * *

  
**I Can't Serve You As You Have Me**  
When Harry comes, he doesn't say anything, he just cries out, loud. It's rough and real and it always finishes me--the clench of him, the spurt of his seed on my hand.

Afterward, he looks at me like he can't look enough.

"That was brilliant," he says.

"Understatement," I say.

"Magic," he says.

I hush him and he shuts his eyes. This is the best thing that ever happened to me, I think, but don't dare say. For me, the same person who lived through so much death, to be restored to this life--I don't deserve it. I'll take it.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote some drabbles for [](http://snape100.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**snape100**](http://snape100.dreamwidth.org/) over a period of several months, and here sewed them into a story with no beta-reader.


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